Batman Exsanguinous
by jmichaelbruce
Summary: Look at my profile for the new website
1. Chapter 1

**The Death of Bruce Wayne**

It should be raining.

Rain has so much emotion associated with it. Sadness, grief, romance, change. When it rained for Noah, it was the death of an old world and the birth of a new. In the Tale of Two Cities, it rained as an omen of unfortunate occurrences. But in the story of a ten-year-old boy who just witnessed the murder of his parents, there isn't a cloud in the night sky.

Rain would have been a nice warning.

I wish it was raining for more practical reasons too. Rain washes away blood- instead it pools at my feet. Rain obscures vision- instead my gaze locks onto my mother's fear-frozen face. Rain would make my face wet- instead the tears refuse to break the dam that my young, broken heart has erected. Rain would be cold- instead my rage burns like the coals of a smith's forge, and hardens like the steel of a claymore. Rain would be a distraction- instead, I notice the piece of cloth that had been left behind by my parents' murderer.

I grabbed the cloth and clenched it in my fist. It was soft and clean, and though I knew it belonged to the mugger who stole my parents from me, it threatened to break down the dam around my tear ducts.

It should be raining.

I looked down at the cloth and the coals that were smoldering in my heart suddenly leapt into flame.

My name is Bruce Wayne. My parents were Martha and Thomas Wayne and they were murdered in cold blood on a rainless night when I was ten years old.

And I know who killed them.

Two years ago, I spent my birthday in the hospital. Nothing serious, but I did have a minor concussion from a fall. You should have seen my mom; she was worried sick. I was playing outside my parents' mansion when I stumbled upon a section of the grounds keeping that was less tended than most. There was an abandoned well that was boarded up, but time had weakened the planks.

I woke up in the bottom of a narrow cave. My head hurt like hell and the dark swallowed everything except the narrow shaft of light from my fall. Like any child, I screamed for my parents, I saw a thousand eyes open down at the end of the tunnel.

My dad told me that the bats were more afraid of me than them, but I never believed him. At least the bats were able to move in the face of danger- I froze in the face of the cloud of flapping wings and rodent screams. Later, in the hospital, I was able to put on a strong face for my mother, but the sight of bats continues to make me clam up and petrify.

The police station was much like a swarm of bats the day my parents died. The swirl of officers and the flapping of coats turned the GCPD into a veritable hell swarm. Aside from being incredibly wealthy, my parents were also very influential in Gotham's sociopolitical groundwork. My father had even been in the race for mayor before his murder.

The police were nowhere near as graceful as the bats. Bats use sonar to avoid each other mid-flight and their formations ebb and flow with the wind. The GCPD clumsily floundered as each department fought for the chance to be on the case, or desperately passed off this career nightmare.

But, like the swarm of bats, little Bruce Wayne was caught in the middle and largely ignored. I was questioned briefly, but by keeping quiet and still, I was soon left alone. I overheard the overzealous officers when new information from the murder surfaced. A gun had been found- a custom model with no discernable serial number. Fingerprints were nonexistent. The murderer had either worn gloves or wiped down the weapon. I finally heard what I was looking for when the Commissioner- a man named Loeb- came to me.

"Bruce? Bruce, right?" he was a portly, bald man with a cloud of cigarette smoke obscuring most of his face. His voice was gruff and unsympathetic. I nodded meekly at him. "Good. A man named Pennyworth's here for you. Your butler, I think."

Alfred. Alfred had been with my family since before I was born. His was a face that I knew as well as any family member. I stood up and sulked towards the door. When we came outside, dawn was peeking over the horizon, and a sleek black car was waiting by the sidewalk. Alfred stood by in his impeccably tailored suit, holding the passenger door open. His face was grave and he looked at me with pity.

"Get home safely," Loeb called, half to me and half to Alfred. "Don't worry! We'll find the man who did this!"

He was wrong. I knew who the murderer was and I knew he would never be caught.

I sullenly entered the car without looking at Alfred. He looked at me with a pained expression then shut the door and walked around the car. The car was on the road for several minutes before Alfred spoke.

"Master Bruce, I- I don't know what to say, but I promised your parents that I would take care of you should anything happen to them. I cannot replace them, but I will do what I can to be there for you."

I said nothing. I didn't even look at him. Alfred coughed uncomfortably.

"Master Bruce," Alfred stopped midsentence. He opened his mouth again and closed it. Finally, after two minutes of silence, he continued. "Master Bruce, do you need to talk? I know you've been through so much in the past few hours."

I continued my stoic non-response until Alfred took the hint. Alfred locked his eyes on the road and remained silent. As soon as I knew he had given up, I sneezed- loudly, but not so much to sound forced. Alfred reacted immediately.

"Oh, Master Bruce! Let me get you my-"

Before Alfred could reach his breast pocket, I threw the strip of cloth that I had hidden in my pocket onto the dashboard. It was a clean, white handkerchief. The fabric was a creaseless silk weave that was embroidered on the bottom corner with two violet letters: A. P.

Alfred looked briefly at the handkerchief and his face blanched. Without looking me in the eye, he said, "Ah."

That monosyllable suddenly confirmed every dark suspicion that I had stored in my heart for the past hours. I hadn't realized that I was holding onto a sliver of hope that I was wrong- that Alfred had not betrayed my family.

"Master Bruce, you need to understand-"

"YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!" The floodgates of emotion broke inside me and my voice thundered in the small confines of the vehicle. My face was wet and hot as the words flew from my mouth. I don't know when I had started crying.

Alfred never raised his voice. "You need to understand Master Br-"

"MURDERER!" My throat was already raw. I was not controlling myself and I had no intention of doing so.

"Bruce," Alfred, for the first time in my life, neglected to say 'Master Bruce.' "You need to understand. There is more that is at stake than you. You know your father was running for mayor?"

I ignored him and turned to the window to watch the scenery roll past. I was done with him. I was done with everything. I wanted to stop existing. We were exiting the city and reaching the less developed sections. Guardrails passed by interrupted only by short patches of untidy fields. Alfred continued talking, but I couldn't care less.

"Your father was gaining a great deal of popularity, but his decisions were dangerous to the city. He was pouring money into non-profit organizations that were going to irreparably impair the economy. If his competitor doesn't win the race, Gotham could fall apart."

Grass. Guardrail. Grass. Guardrail. Grass. A train sounded in the distance.

"Bruce, I did what I did for the city! Will you listen to me?" Alfred sounded more desperate, his voice pitched higher, but I was too busy watching the flock of birds overhead.

Alfred sighed and his demeanor seemed to drop by several degrees. It was as though he were slouching into a pit.

"Did you know I have a daughter, Bruce? Mayor Kane knew. He found her at her apartment in London, and showed me pictures of- Oh God, he had my daughter, Bruce! He knew people. He could have killed her if I didn't- if I hadn't-"

Guardrail. Grass. Guardrail. Grass. Choo Choo. Guardrail.

"We can get her, now," Alfred was grasping at straws now- his end of the conversation was coming in quick bursts. Grass. "Kane gave me an address. You'll like her, she is quite a dear." Guardrail. "We'll find a place away from Gotham, away from all this mess." Grass. "I'll be able to keep you safe from danger." Guardrail. "You won't have your fortune, but when you come of age-"

I didn't hear the finish to that sentence over the sound of the wind rushing through the open car door. I rolled as best as I could into the stretch of field outside the car. My shoulders stung and my knees nearly locked up when I tried to stand, but I forced myself to my feet and ran. I heard Alfred calling my name, but I didn't look back. I just ran straight into the trees in front of me.

Branches raked my face and leaves obscured my vision. I kept running. Roots grabbed at my feet. I kept running. I was so focused on that single task that I nearly ran into the train that was passing along its tracks.

I was hoping I would find it.

I ran with the train even though it was faster than my short legs would keep up. As soon as the first open door passed me, I jumped sideways onto my sore shoulders. With groans of pain, I looked around me and saw that the car was empty. I relaxed and let my body rock with the sobs that had waited patiently for me to give up.

I looked at the ceiling of the car and thought back to the previous night. My parents were dead. Alfred betrayed them. I lost my home. The skies darkened.

It began to rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Picking Up a Stray**

"Wake up, runt! We got a visitor," Fox announced with a savage kick to the boxes that were holding up my meager shelter. I wasn't too upset about that. When you live with Fox's gang for a week, you don't grow attached to your sleeping arrangements. I stepped out of the pile and blinked into the sun that was coming out between the buildings of downtown Central City. The rest of Fox's gang and I had taken up residence in an alleyway between 5th Street and Maple; it was cramped, but it offered more shelter than some other places I'd stayed in the past year.

What did surprise me is that we had a guest. Fox was a pretty popular fence in the area, but he usually kept the selling business to himself. Aside from that, Fox wasn't taken very seriously. His gang was new and full of young, homeless kids like myself- though, truth be told, not nearly as young as me- and Fox himself was barely older than twenty. If we had a visitor, that meant change.

And change wasn't necessarily good.

I walked over to where Mouse was leaning against the brick wall of a building. Mouse stood six feet tall, and though he couldn't have been more than sixteen, his chest and biceps bulged under every shirt he wore. He was the unofficial muscle of the group, and the only reason I could find for his name was irony.

"Hey Mouse, you know what's up this morning?" I asked in my least combative voice. When talking to a guy like Mouse, it's wise to establish that you are definitely not starting a fight.

"Shut it pipsqueak." He responded without a glance down to me. Yeah, down. Way down. I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet, and at eleven years old, I wasn't likely to his it soon.

"C'mon, man," I pleaded. "I'm new hear and I need guidance from someone as wise and experienced as my good friend Mouse." I didn't have much to go on in this group, but I knew that complimenting Mouse's smarts- even jokingly- could get me answers. He chuckled lightly in response.

"Visitor means a job, Bat. Job means work."

A job, huh? Aside from being a fence, Fox kept his gang around in order to provide services for the less legal activities of the city. Typically, the gang members brought in stolen good and cash, but a job meant big money for big prizes. I hadn't been able to bring anything in yet, so a big hit could cement my place in Fox's gang. Sure, he was a bit of an ass sometimes, but stability is something valuable when you don't have a home.

Fox was standing at the end of the alley, his red hair catching the light. He was slender like the rest of us. He was far enough back to be off the sidewalk, and I could see someone that he was blocking from the alley. After a few hushed words that I couldn't make out, Fox stepped aside and gestured the man in.

He was surprisingly young. Probably out of college, but only just. The lanky individual was dressed in a well-tailored suit and his hair hung down to his shoulders. He wasn't terribly handsome, but he shone with a deep, inner confidence. He smiled with teeth as white as snow when he looked at us.

"Alright Den," Fox introduced him. "Say hi to Mr. Nigma."

"Please, please! Call me Eddie. Now, riddle me this" Eddie looked the gang over one-by-one. As most men did, he gave Hawk a head-to-toe inspection and moved on. Finally, his eyes landed on me, and somehow, his smile got wider. "When did you start recruiting infants?"

Weasel giggled, but Fox shot him a glare that shut him up. I simply did as I had been told to do: cross my arms and say as little as possible. In this case, nothing. This didn't seem to dissuade Eddie who then walked straight up to me and knelt to my eye-level.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Bat."

Eddie barked out a laugh. "Now that's a riddle! How does someone like you, earn a name like that?"

"Simple," Fox interjected. "He's small, fuzzy, and he has an annoyingly high-pitched voice."

This time everyone laughed. The truth was more complicated, but not anymore glamorous. A week ago, Fox had found me in the rafters of an abandoned gymnasium that had once been used as a homeless shelter. I had climbed up there because for the past year, I had been a homeless orphan and I was having trouble finding safe sleeping places for a child. I had been in a wealthy family a year ago, but that all changed when my butler killed my parents in a dark alley.

Fox found me when I was cowering in the corner, hiding from a bat that had gotten in the building. I had what may be called an irrational fear of bats, but it earned me the nickname. He must have seen some potential in a climber like me, though, because he brought me under his wing.

"Well, Bat," Eddie continued in his condescending tone. "How old are you, exactly?"

I puffed out my chest. "Twelve."

"Eleven, then, right?" Eddie then adopted a sing-song baby voice to mock me. "Well, Batsy-watsy, I got a big ol' job that can make big ol' bucks. What do you think?"

"I think that for a guy who likes riddles, you ask some stupid questions."

Silence fell in the alleyway. Then Eddie laughed loudly and turned to Fox.

"Oh, I like this one, my friend."

"Can we get to the job, now?"

"Very well," Eddie began to address the entire group and I relaxed my stance. "It's really a simple job, but I'm being forced to take rather illicit means to get what I want, and I simply refuse to get my hands dirty."

Eddie pulled out an envelope.

"At this address you will find a gold statue encased in a glass. I will pay you half of your fee now and half when I hold the statue in my hands. I expect it within the next twenty-four hours. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal," Fox replied quickly and snatched the paper from his hand. Eddie traded stares with him for a moment, then left the way he came. For several seconds, everyone was silent and no one made eye contact. Hawk broke the tension first.

"So. I'm doing the job. Can I have the envelope?"

Fox continued looking at the street. He let out a long breath.

"Bat does it."

"What?"

"Bat's job. He does it."

"Are you kidding? I know we need the money, and _you_ know that I am the best one for this job. Why are you giving it to the toddler?"

"We'll get other jobs."

"Up you- "

Fox turned abruptly to Hawk and gave her a withering glare. Hawk was an eighteen-year-old girl with about three inches on Fox, but she shrank back at the fire coming from his eyes.

"This is my gang! My rules! Understand?" Hawk nodded sullenly without making eye contact. "Bat is the newest member and this will his test. He needs to prove himself. He makes this job; he stays. He screws the pooch; he hits the street. Besides, he's small and a good climber. I think he can handle it."

Fox turned his fiery glare to me then.

"You got that, kid?"

Just north of Central city is a wealthy neighborhood full of mansions and huge estates. Somewhere in the middle of all that is a quaint, one-story home that matched the address in Eddie's envelope.

There was still no mistake that the place was expensive; the landscaping alone indicated that Michelangelo was working on the shrubs. But it was small for the area, which may turn out to be very good for this job. We had waited until twilight to come here, and it was already hard to see.

"Is it dark enough, now?" I asked and looked up at Hawk, who had accompanied me. Her flat, blonde hair caught a light breeze and obscured her face, but she didn't fix it.

"Bat, if I hear one more syllable out of your mouth, I will break it. Capeesh?"

I shut my mouth and we stood in silence for two seconds until Hawk spoke again.

"Go!"

I broke out into a run until I composed myself and tried to casually sidle up against the house. I knew better than to use the front door, so I checked to see if any windows were unlocked.

The first one- I swear, the first one- was open. I slipped it free just wide enough for me to squeeze through. Over the past year, I had learned how to tread silently, and I used those skills to step softly into the empty house. Unfortunately, my foot caught a large fern just inside the window and I rolled heavily to the floor.

Panicked, I looked around, but I didn't see anything reacting to my blunder. Nothing. I silently give thanks for the greatest series of lucky events that I could have expected tonight. I look back at the plant, and luckily it hadn't been knocked over. Unfortunately, I was now lost in a forest.

Wall to wall plants filled the room I had entered. Flowers, pots and a couple hundred ferns littered the entire room, and I couldn't even find a door in the place. I wandered aimlessly until I came to one wall with a fireplace that had clearly not been used in years. There was no artwork to be seen. No statues. No glass cases. I had no idea where to go with this.

Almost literally grasping at straws, I reached forward through the plants until I met a wall that gave some give. A door! In hopeful desperation, I pushed forward and swung the near-hidden door open. And all hell broke loose.

An alarm in the next room began blaring like a freight train. The room I was in stayed dark - probably controlled for the plants- but the rest of the house lit up like a beacon along with the screaming alarm. I looked around for an exit and my eyes landed on the fireplace.

When I came back to Hawk covered in soot and sweat, she stopped me cold with a glare.

"You failed." She said without preamble.

"But I-"

"You had one shot," Hawk looked up to the building that was now glowing in the dusk. "And you blew it. I had better not see you near Fox's gang again."

"Hawk, please! I can try again!"

Hawk was already walking away. "I had better not hear you either."

I watched her walk away with my home and my security. I wasn't close enough to call the Den my family, but they were the only people I had, and I had lost them. I waited until I saw Hawk leave and I waited a bit longer.

I failed. But I was going to make this right.

The door opened within a few minutes of my knocks. The older woman who I had seen exiting her car a few minutes earlier stood in the doorway. She was dressed expensively and looked down at my pitiful outfit and dirty complexion with disdain. It was okay, I wanted her to pity me as much as possible.

"What do you need dearie?" she asked tentatively. I didn't look up at her. My tears hadn't formed yet.

"Little boy, are you lost?" I felt a warm, wet sensation fall on my face. Finally.

"Y-yes. I can't find my mom," I whimpered, just to lay it on as thickly as possible. "And I'm just so cold..."

I saw pity and apprehension war on her face until pity inevitably won. She busily ushered me into the house. The room just inside the door was a large kitchen area that opened into a dining area to the left. Everything seemed modern and very clean.

"Now, honey," She said, bending down to meet my eyes. "Does your mom have a phone? Do you know the number?"

Sniff. Pout. Shake head.

"Oh, oh my." The old woman seemed at a loss for a moment, then her demeanor brightened. "Tell you what. I'll make some calls to get you some help. The police were over a little while ago for a false alarm so there should be someone close. Until then, would you like to see my garden"

I looked into her eyes and gave a small nod.

Smiling, she took me back into an adjacent room and turned on the light. It was the same room I had entered before. The woman asked me to stay in the room while she went to the phone. When the door closed, I looked around for the window and the plant that didn't fall over even when an eleven-year-old fell on it.

As quickly as I could, I pulled out the fake plant and found what was holding it down at the base: a foot and a half tall glass case with a strangely shaped, gold statue within. I looked for a way out and once again, my eyes landed on the fireplace.

The Den had abandoned the alleyway, but Eddie Nigma was waiting there as the sun rose. I jumped down from the fire escape ladder.

"About time!" he said, looking up from his Rolex. "Do you have it?"

I held out the statue and set it on the ground.

"Ha! The Bat wins! You know, I received a message from your boss a few hours ago. He backed out on the job. I assume that you are working alone?"

I said nothing.

"Well then, I am an honest man, so here goes."

Eddie grabbed the statue and replaced it with an envelope that bulged with what I assumed to be cash. I looked down at it, the spoils of theft. I recalled the helpless woman I had lied to and stolen from, and I felt a momentary stab of guilt. I was shocked then when Eddie broke the statue's glass with the straight, black cane that he held in his hand. With a sharp twist, he jammed it on to the head of his cane and admired it.

"I've been badgering that old biddy for a while now to sell me this statue, but she wouldn't budge. I should have given up on it, but the statue looked so much like a question mark, and the way that I love riddles- "

"Keep the money," I said abruptly.

"Beg pardon?"

"I don't want to be paid for this. Keep the money or give it to Fox, I don't care."

Eddie gave me a questioning glance without moving towards the envelope.

"Riddle me this," he mused without breaking eye contact. "Why do you think Fox brought you into his gang?"

"Because I'm small," I replied quickly, but after a second's thought, I added, "And I can climb really well. Helps me get into hard to reach places."

"You're confident of that?" I nodded. He smiled, then picked up the envelope and tucked it into his jacket. "Truth be told, I've known Fox for quite some time, and you haven't quite got it yet. Admittedly, he may enjoy those skills that you have, but he keeps you around for a lot less rational of a reason." Turning abruptly, he left me alone in the alley, calling over his shoulder:

"Think on it!"

With nothing else to do, I did. I had failed Fox, the only person after a year to give me the shelter of a community. True, I had eventually completed, the job, but there was no way that he would know that. And what good was I as a thief? Sure, I had stolen food to survive on my own, but now I had stolen art from a rich man for a rich man. I thought of Eddie and I thought of the wealth I had once possessed. If my parents hadn't died, would I have become a selfish hoarder like him? Or would I have become worse?

From that point on, I decided on a rule for myself. Rule Number One: If I steal, I steal only when myself or my family needs it to survive, and I only take from those whom it will not harm. At eleven, I think one, solid moral rule is enough.

For now.

I found myself wandering the streets, looking for something to do with myself, when a voice called toward me about midday.

"Bat!"

I recognized the voice as Fox's, so I turned my head in surprise. The rest of the gang was behind him in the sidewalk. I must have walked past them while I was lost in thought. Fox was leaning against a wall, exuding reckless confidence.

"Good news, runt. Turns out, Nigma paid the full wage even though you failed miserably. Since I'm not out a dime, I suppose you can stay."

My heart leapt in my chest with hope.

"By the way, Hawk tells me that you shimmied out of a chimney, that true?"

I nodded.

"Keep it up, Bat. I like your guts."

Suddenly, I saw it in that young man. I saw the boy that was all alone as an orphan in Central City with no one to care for him. I saw the boy who learned the hard parts of the street and how to overcome them; earning the name Fox from his rakish attitude, clever strategy, and obnoxious social behavior. I realized what would spark in a young man like him when he saw a kid with potential, but no one to support him. A spark of compassion.

I strode towards the rest of the group and began walking with them towards fifth street until Fox put a firm hand on my shoulder.

"But never," he commanded. "I repeat: Never screw up again. You understand me?"

In response, I gave him the most clever, rakish, and obnoxious smile I could.


	3. Chapter 3

**Games of Bat and Mouse**

The can crunched against the side of the nearby building before rebounding back into the alleyway. Fox stormed after it and stomped it will incredible intensity. When he kicked it again, his face showed disappointment when it failed to fly as far as last time. He then stormed towards the back of the alley to find another one.

"He still upset about it?" Hawk asked in a low voice to no one in particular. I turned to her in surprise, and began to ask her what she was talking about, but Rabbit intercepted the comment.

"Yeah, and I hear it's been getting worse."

"Really? I thought it was a onetime thing?"

"See, that's what everyone thought, but it turns out that-"

"What are you guys talking about," I finally asked, perhaps a bit too loudly. I was the youngest member of Fox's gang, but I hated being left out.

"Shut up Bat," Hawk hissed at me, her blonde hair whipping her in the face as she turned to me. "This is none of your business!"

"It is too," I argued. "I am a part of this gang, whether you like it or not."

Rabbit moved meekly between us, "Listen, it's not that big of a deal-"

"It doesn't matter what the deal is," Hawk interrupted, throwing her words around Rabbit. "You shut up when I tell you to shut up. Got it, runt?"

I was about to argue when Fox's voice was heard from down the alley.

"Den, huddle up!"

We moved into action. The den may not be the most organized gang in Central City, but when Fox spoke, we moved. Fox was a young fence in the city, but he had garnered quite a bit of respect for himself. When people thought of the Den, they didn't think of the orphaned, homeless pickpockets that were comprised mostly of minors, they thought of Fox and the success he had made in such a short time.

"Alright everyone," he began as soon as we had gathered around him. "Let's set things straight. I know you all have been talking amongst yourselves and I want any rumors to stop now." He looked pointedly at Rabbit and Hawk. "It's true. There is another fence in town and he's taking some of my business. Whoever it is still working. One of my contacts just informed me that he would no longer be buying from me."

"What does it matter?" Weasel piped in. The greasy-haired high school dropout crossed his arms when all eyes pointed on him. "It's one contact. I thought you were more successful than that."

Fox's eyes narrowed.

"The point, Weasel, is that each contact is a huge sum of money that gets up and walks away from me. I'm not so naive to think that this will be the only one. I can't take hits like that, and neither can you. You think this gang's protection comes for free?" Fox stormed towards the opening of the alleyway and crossed his arms over a wide stance. "This leaves us one course of action: you all need to hit the streets. I need to know who this fool is, so you're all going to work on finding out the identity of this new fence so that we can muscle him out of business. Understand?"

We all gave various gestures of assent and then he ushered us into the street. Everyone in the gang had their own way of starting a search, but I went with the strategy that had served me for the past year of being on my own.

I went up.

It was easy to find the nearest fire escape and climb up it until I could reach the gutters near the roof. Fox had found me when I was in the rafters of a three-story building, and I haven't really stopped climbing. I didn't look very graceful as I scrambled up onto the roof, but I kept moving to get to the outer most edge as quickly as possible.

I was new, very new to the gang. I had proven myself, sure, but I knew that I still had much to learn in the ways of surviving in the streets. Often, I would spend my time on the rooftops, anonymously watching the other members of the Den as they moved through the city. Today would be especially important, since I had no idea how to track down a fence.

I watched the gang disperse like a field of ants. Weasel was the first out of the alley and he headed quickly out of the alley towards the river front where most of the illegal deals went down. Rabbit and Hawk used a more methodical approach by walking down opposite streets, talking to whoever they encountered. The whole gang had moved out in a matter of minutes, but oddly enough, I saw that Mouse had picked a spot in a nearby plaza and remained there. He seemed to be looking at nothing in particular and he leaned against the wall of a building.

This piqued my interest. Mouse was about as mouse-like as a bear. For a sixteen-year-old, he was bulging with muscle that was borne of years of hard work, and he could almost cast a shadow over everyone in the gang. In addition to that, he was fiercely loyal to Fox. I figured with his intimidation ability, he would be the most likely candidate for tracking down our leader's rival, but here he stood, doing nothing.

This, I decided, would be the subject of today's observation. As I kept my eyes locked on this motionless man, I began to run through the questions of the da. Who was the new fence? How was this person taking jobs away from Fox? That person would need to know who Fox's contacts were and how he was operating with them. Someone who would know that information would have to be trusted by Fox, knowledgeable about the comings and goings of the gang, and...

He would have to be a member of the Den.

I looked back at Mouse in a different light. Was he as fiercely loyal as he seemed, or was he just trying to get close enough to Fox to use the information? Was he just muscle, or was he hiding a mind that was just as toned?

I continued to build the conspiracy of Mouse's treachery when he went on the move. He looked up to a nearby public clock, nodded in confirmation of the clock and headed south. I went to follow him but realized quickly how little roof that I had left to me. I didn't want to lose track of Mouse, but the closest rooftop was across a wide alleyway and at least five feet down.

I steeled myself, then raced towards the edge. I was not terribly large for my age and I hadn't put on much muscle in my time as a homeless orphan, but I was wiry and light. I aimed for the ledge and leapt off my right leg in as straight a line as I could toward the other roof. For a brief moment, I was weightless, flying like the creature from which I had gained my nickname.

The moment ended quickly.

Time slowed as I realized that I was not going to make the jump. I saw the edge of the roof glide upwards, just out of reach of my hopelessly reaching fingers. As a scream began to pierce my lips, the railing from a fire escape ladder struck me under the arms. They immediately went numb, so my desperate attempt to grab hold of the railing resulted in a lamely flailing slide off of the railing. I accelerated backward to the ground until I encountered a clothes line that tangled around my ankle. Before I could orient myself, the line snapped and forcibly swung me at the wall of the building where I was released into a pile of refuse that had accumulated in the alleyway.

I was breathing hard and every cell in my body was screaming in protest of the assault. My mind worked hard to balance between the self-abuse directed at my stupidity, and the gratefulness that I felt towards whatever good fortune I had stumbled upon to still be alive.

All at once, I came to my senses and remembered what it was that I was trying to do. I had to follow Mouse! I leapt to my feet.

Well, I tried to.

The actual motion was more akin to a wingless bird trying to stand after hitting a window. I tried not to let that image haunt me too much. I rushed to the end of the alley and found myself in the crowds of the midday lunch rush. Everyone, ranging from nurses' scrubs to business suits, was walking in all directions in the populous downtown area. I looked around to get my bearings, found the street signs and solidified my location in my head.

I'd been living in Star City for over a year now, and I had made a point of memorizing as many streets as possible so that I would never get lost. I still remember the night, a month after my escape from Gotham, that I had taken too many wrong turns on my way to the homeless shelter and wound up facing a group of heroin addicts armed with switchblades. I sometimes have nightmares where their hungry eyes and incoherent yells continue to chase me down the street.

By some strange chance, while I was looking for street signs, a familiar, ragged haircut caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I looked back down Blake Avenue just in time to see Mouse's large form around the corner to head down South 3rd street. Without a second thought, I ran towards the street corner after him. It only took a few paces to realize the mistake I was making. Every person I passed stared at me with a wary look in their eyes as the women unconsciously held their purses closer and the men unconsciously tensed their muscles. For a moment, I looked through their eyes, and I saw a thieving street urchin that was running haphazardly down the street. If I stood out this much, I was sure to attract the attention of Mouse when I rounded 3rd.

I stopped running. Instead I worked with the flow of people and walked in the direction Mouse had travelled; keeping far enough away from passers so they didn't think I would pick their pocket. When I turned on the street corner, I barely saw Mouse heading left on Market Street. I reminded myself no to rush this time, and I found myself moving more quickly and more inconspicuously as I kept with the pace of the much larger adults around me.

This pattern allowed me to slowly catch up to an easy following distance of Mouse, without being seen. He continued to move in a zig-zag path through the downtown streets, but my mental map told me that he was headed for the red-light district of the city. Was that where he was establishing his rival business?

I continued to ask myself this question until Mouse reached his destination. This brought me up short and threw all of my theories out the window. I suddenly had to reanalyze everything that I had learned today. I now had new questions on top of the ones I had at the beginning of the day, and I had no hope of resolving them.

Or did I?

One detail made its way to the surface of my deliberations. This detail became an idea. The idea filled enough holes to make an explanation. The explanation became a plan. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't foolproof, it would take quite a bit of work, but if I succeeded, Fox's problem would be history.

I ran away from the red-light district. I had work to do.

As sundown approached, the alley fell into deep darkness. When he came down from the street, his face was shrouded in shadow, but I could tell that he was looking furtively around. Finally, he seemed to believe that the coast was clear and he stepped forward.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but this is not how I want to do business," he called out. I didn't respond. I owed him nothing. "Just to be clear, I won't be doing this in the fut-"

His eyes landed on the bait. In the middle of the alley was a ragged duffel bag, juxtaposed with the glittering contents spilling out from within it. Even from the distance he stood, he should be able to see the value in jewelry that was contained in the bag. At once, his eyes glazed over with avarice, even though his body still displayed caution.

"I don't know how you got a hold of these," he began to move toward the bag, arms outstretched. "But I can guarantee-"

"I wouldn't put your fingerprints on those, if I were you," I declared from my post on the scaffold behind him. Without waiting for a response, I shoved hard against the massive structure next to me.

The building adjacent to the alley had apparently been undergoing renovations up until the money ran out. As a result, large scaffolding structures had been left behind; one such scaffold bearing a significant pile of precariously balanced pallets. It wasn't an outrageous quantity, but it was enough to block the alley from exit.

He turned around towards the pallets and his face came into view.

"What the Hell?" Weasel yelled. His expression showed a near even mixture of anger and surprise. I dropped down to the ground and looked at his squarely. A difficult feat, since he was more than a head taller than me.

"I said," I repeated calmly, trying not to let my voice crack. "You don't want to get fingerprints on those."

"Bat?" Weasel asked incredulously. "What are you doing? Where did you swipe that stuff?"

I ignored his questions.

"You went to the docks today when Fox wanted us to find his rival. Most illegal deals go down over there, so it would be the best place to search, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"No, it isn't. Anyone who starts asking about a fence down there will either get stonewalled or driven out. No one wants a snitch on their turf. You didn't go to the docks to find a fence; you were there to be one!"

Weasel tried to interrupt me, but when I finished my train of logic, he closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're betraying Fox!" I cried in outrage. "Our leader! The person that has been watching out for us all this time!"

"Hey!" Weasel snapped, his wiry form bending to meet me eye-to-eye. "There is only one person that watches out for me, you understand? That person is me. Now, grab that bag and help me move these pallets so we can get out of here."

I stood my ground.

"I'm not helping a traitor. Besides-"

"Why you little-"

"-_Besides, _the police received an anonymous tip that they would find a large collection of stolen jewelry in this alley. They should be here any minute."

As if to punctuate my words, the sound of sirens emerged from out in the street. I smiled and found out that you can see the exact moment when someone's heart falls into their stomach just by watching their face.

"What have you done, Bat? We gotta get out of here!"

"Oh, you can't get past those pallets, not quickly enough to avoid arrest."

To Weasel, who had just turned eighteen, that was quite the threat.

"But you'll get caught too," he stammered. "Did you think of that?"

"I won't get caught because I know the way out."

"Tell me!" Desperation dripped off of his every word.

"I said I won't help a traitor."

"I'm not a traitor!" The sirens came closer. "Okay! I didn't want it to be such a big deal, I just wanted to have my own gig."

"So, you'll keep lying to Fox so you can make money?"

"No! I'm done. I'll tell the contacts that I can't do business with them anymore."

"Promise?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Good," it was my turn to narrow my eyes. "Because if you betray Fox again, I'll tell him _and_ the police."

We could now hear the crunch of rubber wheels on asphalt and the sirens were almost deafening.

"Sheesh, kid! Will you tell me how to get out, now?"

I quirked the edge of my mouth and pointed at the fire escape behind him where I had attached a rope to the first landing.

"We go up."

The next day, I found Mouse standing at the same place as the day before. He was leaning against the building again, looking at a clock.

"Hey Mouse!" I called out to him. He glanced my direction and tilted his head; grudgingly allowing me to approach him. I came within a few feet of him, but he didn't look down at me. "Did you hear? Fox got his contact back. The rival must be gone now."

Mouse grunted. "Yeah, runt, everyone's heard. If that's all you got to say, then beat it. I got stuff to do."

I sighed inwardly. I was hoping to bring things up in conversation, but it seemed that Mouse wasn't going to go along with it. Well, if that was the way it was going to be, I may as well drop tact all together.

"How long have you been working at _The Rouge_?"

He stood bolt upright at that and looked furtively around. Then he looked angrily at me. When he searched my expression- I guessed that he was looking for accusation, but didn't find it- he seemed to calm down.

"You followed me yesterday?" I nodded. "Damn, you're good. But its pronounced _rooj._ It's a French thing, I think. You know what the place is?"

"A club, right?"

"Somethin' like that. The owner saw me the other day and offered me a job as a bouncer. I guess I wear my shirts a bit too tight. Anyway, I told her my age and that she probably needed to look elsewhere. She was persistent, though, and said that they needed some muscle on the off hours. It's a nightclub, right? But during the day, lowlifes and spoiled kids with no job think they can come in as they please like they own the place. It's more than you would think, and yesterday was my first day."

"So, are you leaving the gang?" I asked. Again, he searched my face for accusation, but then sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"Naw, Bat. For one, I'm not making enough to go out on my own. Aside from that, I owe it to Fox to stay with the Den. He took me in when no one else would; made me feel like I belong, when everyone else was treating me like an outcast. If he needs me to do a job, I'll do it. If he needs muscle, I'll give it. Simple as that."

"Then why work at_ The Rouge_?"

"Because-" Mouse stopped for a moment with his mouth open. He closed it, opened it, then closed it again so he could collect his thoughts. Finally, he said, "Bat, you ain't been with the Den long, but Fox picked me up when I was just a couple years older than you. I've been doing this for a while and I'll tell you one thing: stealing sucks. Yeah, it'll keep you fed, but its dead-end, risky and makes your hands feel filthy. I'm loyal to the gang, but I don't want to steal from people anymore, and the club has a better chance of giving me a future. When I get paid, I'll give Fox what I owe him, and he can believe that I took it from somebody."

I stood there silently. This was more than Mouse had shared with me since I'd joined the gang. Heck, it was more than anyone had shared with me, period. My lack of response must have unintentionally communicated something to Mouse because he scoffed loudly and turned back to watching the clock.

"I didn't expect you to understand. You gonna tell Fox, now?"

I mulled over my words for a moment. I actually understood him more than he thought. I may owe Fox for taking me in, but I also wanted a future that would someday involve a better home than an alleyway.

"I'm loyal to Fox, too. He's given me protection ever since he found me on the streets. But if I told him that Mouse was a loyal member of the gang who would be working his ass off to make sure he brought in his share, I wouldn't be telling him anything he didn't know. I'm not telling Fox. I've got nothing to tell."

The sides of Mouse' mouth twitched, then it grew into a face-splitting smile.

"I think I'm starting to like you, runt. Want me to tell you about the girls I saw at the club?"

"I'm eleven," I said innocently. "Girls are gross."

Mouse laughed loudly.

"Shuddup, runt."


	4. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

**Fun at the Circus**

"Why are we here, again?"

"Why have you asked a dozen times?"

"Because your answer is terrible," Talia replied. "How are we to have 'fun' here? Why should we? We still have our duties to our father."

I hooked my elbow into hers and pulled her towards the tent that was already overflowing with people. Spotlights traced the clouds ask dusk fell on the city of Gotham.

"Yes, we have our duties," I agreed with Talia. "But the circus hardly ever comes to Gotham. I haven't been to one since I was five years old. Surely we can take one evening out of our busy schedule to actually enjoy nightlife in the city."

"I enjoy nights in the city well enough, Bruce. Why a circus?"

"Come on. You haven't wanted to relive memories from your childhood?"

Talia gave me a hard look.

"When I was a child, I was learning how to locate the occipital nerve with an assassin's dagger." Suddenly a wistful gaze came over her eyes, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Very well. I can understand nostalgia well enough. I do hope we are not wasting one of our few nights together."

She then gave me a smoldering glare that gave me thoughts that were not circus-friendly.

As we finally entered the big tent, I saw a flyer that caught my eye. Talia made it several steps before she realized I had lagged behind. I held up the paper to answer her questioning gaze.

"It's the Flying Graysons! I didn't know they were still performing!"

"Are they good?"

"They are incredible! The best acrobatic team in the world. Their name isn't hyperbole- they actually look like they can fly."

Talia rolled her eyes. "I can tell that you are able to relive your childhood because you are acting like a starstruck child."

We gained our seating in the middle of the stands just as the events began. The clowns of course opened the show, but I ignored them. As much as Talia may condescend, I did not enjoy this portion of the circus. Clowns were not bats, but they still sent shivers up my spine.

Instead I reflected on my last trip to the circus. I was five years old and the music was louder, the tent was bigger, and the animals more exotic. My parents had still been alive and they had shown me every joy they could. I came from a wealthy family, but my parents were not those who shirked away from the labors of raising a child. We had always been close, and the memory of my billionaire parents sitting in the filthy stands of a travelling circus in order for their son to see clowns and elephants and trapezes made my heart ache all the more for their untimely deaths.

After the clowns came the strong man followed swiftly by a young man who threw knives at a spinning wooden wheel where a lovely dancer had been tied. The most impressive moment was when he was blindfolded and still performed with the same level of accuracy.

"These are extremely talented people," Talia leaned over to tell me. With the crowd, it nearly took yells to communicate. "Why do they work for pittances in this travelling carnival?"

"I'm not an expert, but I imagine there isn't a whole lot of marketability for knife throwing in most businesses."

"The concrete jungle is not the only way to gain success in this world. That boy down there could teach some of my father's marksmen how to throw."

"I'd have to agree, but it isn't as though the League of Shadows is hiring," I joked. I looked at Talia but she kept her gaze towards the center ring. It was possible she hadn't heard me.

Several other performances came and went, but finally the moment I was waiting for arrived. The lights dimmed throughout the tent and spotlights pointed to raised stands that hung fifty feet in the air. The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! The act you've all been waiting for! Sit on the edge of your seats for the Flying Graysons!"

Thunderous applause assaulted my ears. I couldn't help but join in. The spotlight turned to one platform after another.

"Mary Grayson!" A lithe woman in a crimson and gold leotard waved at the crowd. "John Grayson!" A similarly attired man across the tent did the same. "And our Boy Wonder: Richard Grayson." To my astonishment, I saw a young man of no more than twelve years standing on a platform waving exuberantly. This was exciting, he had not been in the group the last time I had seen them.

They began their act and immediately received gasps as Mary threw herself from the platform only to be caught by her husband a handful of meters from the ground. Before the couple finished their arc, however, Richard had jumped from his stand and was racing towards them. He was three quarters of the way through his own swing when he accidentally slipped from his trapeze. The whole audience could see that his parents' arc would not reach him.

I only caught the hint of light from his teeth as he fell to the ground to let me know that he was smiling. As the crowd screamed, John threw Mary at their son. She grabbed Richard, rolled and threw him up and out to the other trapeze that he had discreetly thrown earlier. The throw pushed Mary back into John's one-handed grip, but all eyes were now on their son. He swung at incredible speeds, leapt off towards the next platform, and performed a sliding roll that sent him flying, arms spread, towards the next rope.

The crowd erupted.

I looked to Talia and she was simply staring forward, mouthing the word, "Amazing."

The trapeze artists went on for some time and Talia and I joining in with the boisterous crowd. The act was obviously well rehearsed and designed to be the main event of the evening; something to reward the crowds for their entrance fee. It would also help to sell tickets for shows later in the week.

As I tracked the acrobats, I suddenly caught sight of a strange shadow moving on one of the platforms. I placed my focus on the shadow expecting it to be some surprise element of the act. My training allowed me to recognize the glint of steel as it flashed into the hand of the shadow. I stood in my seat to the shock of Talia and those around me.

"No," I whispered.

The young Richard was waving at the crowd on his own platform when the knife came down on ropes holding his parents. No one else saw the intruder, so no one reacted when John and Mary began to fall from three stories up. The only person with shock on their face was Richard Grayson.

I ran across the stands all too slowly to the aisle as I ripped my cowl across my face. I took in the scene in slow motion. Richard running toward another trapeze- Mary screaming in terror- John reaching in futility towards his wife- The assailant in the shadows of the raised platform headed toward the ladder- another man dropping a lighter near the far edge of the tent-

My clothes fell to shreds as I hit the aisle and deployed a grapple. The Batman suit was designed to deploy strategically placed blades in the event that a quick change was needed. The grapple grew taught and I pulled forward in futility. The acrobatic couple fell in a broken heap as I accelerated toward the platform the first assailant was descending. I kicked twice; once to strike his head, a second to remove his hands from the ladder, and then I leapt toward the platform in which the last surviving Grayson was screaming.

Everyone was screaming now. A few had even noticed the tent catching fire. I stood over Grayson for several seconds before he noticed my presence. He looked at me with tear-stained cheeks and resignation. I recognized the look- I had worn it myself. I, too, would have given up when the angel of death turned his gaze on me after killing my parents.

"Get up!" I growled. This was no time for pity. "I am trying to save your life. I am going to fire a cable that will attach from here to the ground. I can't avoid the flames, so you will have to flip off the line three quarters of the way through and corkscrew through a flaming hole in the tent. Can you do this?"

Grayson hesitantly nodded, shook his head, and then nodded vigorously.

"Yes," he answered. Then the hint of a smile decorated his face for an instant. "I could do that in my sleep."

I didn't add anything to our discourse. I launched one of my remaining lines and gestured him off. He ripped off one of his sleeves and tossed it over the cable before gripping the ends to slide down. I took a moment to watch. The kid's parents just died and he was showing an incredible amount of professionalism.

I looked for Talia in the escaping masses, but I couldn't see her. Good, just as expected. I descended to the ground and was pleased to see fire engines approaching the grounds. Grayson was pacing in the grass a distance from where other crowds were gathering. I approached quietly, but he was not so subtle.

"What are we going to do now? Who did that? Why did they do that? Why is the tent burning? What are you going to do about my parents?"

I froze with a sudden realization. This adolescent was in shock, and the only person with him was myself- a black-clad, bat-themed, infamous assassin. I had no idea how to comfort someone in shock, much less a child. My only training lay in handling other assassins, so I used that.

"Silence. Your parents are dead." That stopped the boy cold. Dear God, he probably was freezing out here in the open. Nevermind, I needed to focus. "Emergency vehicles are handling the blaze and the injured. There is nothing for you to do and you will be safe as long as you stay put and stay calm."

Grayson stilled and dropped his voice to a whisper. "My parents are dead. What- What am I going to do?" He plopped on the ground in a manner just short of a heap.

"A good question. What will you do?"

The boy was looking at the ground and that gaze hardened so much that I thought the grass in front of him would catch fire. "I'm going to find who did it. And I'm going to kill him."

I nodded. "A bold aim. Where will you start?"

"I don't know."

"Then I suggest you remain here. We are expecting someone."

When I finished my sentence, I could hear the sound of two bodies moving through the grass toward us. I smiled as I recognized Talia and smiled wider when I saw the hog-tied form that she was carrying behind her. I recognized him as the man who had set the tent ablaze.

"Say hello, Mr. Grayson. This man is going to tell you who got your parents killed."


	5. 4

See my profile for the new website


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